


come see inside my bones

by chocobos



Series: 'cause we're young and we're reckless [2]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3575739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocobos/pseuds/chocobos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're gonna kill yourself if you keep doing that," Joe says, careful to keep his tone as lifeless as possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	come see inside my bones

**Author's Note:**

> cool. cause exactly what i needed in this fandom was a new pairing to fawn over. even better, a pairing that pretty much no one ships -- 10 works, guys. TEN WORKS IN 14 YEARS FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL PAIRING. I AM SO UPSET.
> 
> anyway, count this as part 2 of my ridiculous hs au for these band of nerds. the second installment was _supposed_ to be a speirton fic, but alas, this gripped me, and here i am.
> 
> this was written from an ask prompt meme i reblogged on my tumblr: 'upside-down kiss' and i couldn't help myself, guys. i couldn't.
> 
> last but not least: this was written based of the characters in the series and not the real men themselves, no harm or disrespect meant, etc etc.

"You're gonna kill yourself if you keep doing that," Joe says, careful to keep his tone as lifeless as possible.

Sure, he may have been having a silent heart attack, a secret aneurysm; every damn nerve in his body on high alert, but what George doesn’t know won’t kill him. The kid is already almost too insufferable as it is, there’s no reason to give him even more ammo.

“Least the headlines’ll be interesting,” he shrugs, and how George manages to do that upside down and make it look convincing is beyond Joe, honestly.

They’ve been best friends since they were in diapers and Joe still can’t wrap his head around him most of the time -- the fact that he’s been in love with George for just as long doesn’t make him any easier to read. If anything, it only serves as fuel for Joe’s never-ending frustration at never having equal footing with the guy he’s been halfway in love with since he even knew was love _was_.

“Whatever,” he mutters, after the silence has stretched on for too long. He kicks some mulch with his feet and pretends it doesn’t feel as satisfying as it does. “Just don’t come cryin’ to me when you snap your fuckin’ neck.”

“Oh, Joe,” George grins, “You say the sweetest things.”

Joe rolls his eyes so hard he sees stars. As in love with him as Joe might be, let it be known that he can't go five minutes without wanting to punch George Luz right in the face.

 

\---

 

The thing is, Joe has always been in love with George, even when they were kids, Joe’s torch always burned the brightest for the little kid with the too-big mouth who didn’t know when to quit.

George is that same damn kid. He _still_ doesn’t know how to control his mouth -- which means Joe bails them out of more trouble than two seventeen-year-old’s have any right to get into -- and he walks around like he’s too big for his body, all gangly limbs and bony elbows poking into Joe’s side, and shit, Joe should hate him for it.

He should hate him for it, but god help him, he doesn’t.

 

\---

 

Twenty minutes later George is still hanging off of the monkey bars like a moron.

"All your blood is going to rush to your brain," Joe points out helpfully.

They've been at the park since school let out hours earlier, and no matter how many times they circle around they somehow always end up here, with George hanging by the back of his knees. Sometimes Joe thinks he exists just to give him high-blood pressure.

(His doctor is already keeping close attention to his stress levels.

Joe has a note saved from him for the opportune moment of maximum guilt.)

"Already there," George groans. "Gettin' kind of fuzzy up there, Joe."

"Sane people would take that as their cue to get the fuck down," Joe murmurs serenely.

“Your opinions exhaust me,” he sighs, and in what can only be an attempt on Joe’s life, moves his legs at such an angle that he almost falls straight down. The only reason he doesn’t is because Joe reaches out at the speed of light to catch him before he does.

He’s never been more thankful for all of the impromptu boxing lessons his dad forces on him than he is now.

“ _Christ_ ,” Joe breathes, and tries very, very hard to keep the boiling-hot anger under control. “Do you even think before you do anything?”

Joe doesn’t even realize how close they are until he notices he can feel George’s breath on his cheek. He smells like usually does, like sweat and the after-shave his father got him for Christmas last year, and shit, Joe is so royally fucked, here. His life is defined in shades of wanting to kiss George -- when they’re lounging in Joe’s room after an intense round of Mario Kart, when they’re in English class and he can’t stop staring at the way George’s mouth curls around silent words as he doodles in the margins of his notes, when they’re at the lunch table and George has his head thrown back because of something Liebgott says; they’re all marked by Joe’s pathetic crush -- but not a single moment compares to this.

His eyes are that same depthless brown that Joe finds himself getting lost in more often than he should, and this close he can see the freckles painting George’s cheeks that the other boy will swear up and down he doesn’t even have. Joe has seen a lot of things, but he’s never seen anything like this.

He physically has to force himself not to reach out for George like the loser he is, and to cope with the loss he shoves them deep into his pockets.

Joe must stay there for a while, longer than warranted, because suddenly there are arms resting on the tops of his shoulders and George’s face seems a lot closer than it was a few minutes ago. “Joe.”

“Oh,” Joe says, lamely. He makes to move out of George’s personal space -- talk about being obvious, fucking christ -- when the grip on his shoulders tighten, but not uncomfortably. He feels rightly rooted. “George?”

“For someone on the honor roll you’re such a cold-blooded _idiot_ , Toye,” George spits, but the harshness of his tone is drowned out by the gentleness of his hands, the sweeping motion of his thumb on the planes of Joe’s shoulders. Joe doesn’t bristle as much as he usually would.

“I’m not the one hangin’ from the skin of his balls off those monkey bars, Luz,” Joe retorts, in the same tone.

George laughs, too big like always, even for the open air of the park, and Joe tries not to focus on how it sends a warmth blooming through his chest. “Point taken,” he rumbles, like his voice didn’t just mature last year, and then suddenly Joe can’t think anymore because he presses their lips together.

George tastes like he acts, loud and vibrant, like the stale coffee he sneaks from the teacher’s lounge when no one’s around. Joe can’t believe this is happening, almost doesn’t, just stands there like an idiot unmoving until George pinches the the skin of his neck and it spurs him into action. If Joe’s being honest with himself, he takes pride in the way he’s able to flick George in the back of the head and pull him closer at the same time (regardless of what he’ll say later, Joe knows George is equally as impressed, can feel it in the way he presses his fingers into the side of his neck).

When they pull away, Joe’s mouth is tingling and he knows his lips are kiss-bruised, but that doesn’t seem to stop George from beaming at him like the damn sun.

"Told ya," George pauses, pointedly. "You're a damn idiot," and then he proceeds to fall to the ground.

Joe can't hold in his laughter, then, not even if he tried, can't help the way he has to clutch at his stomach because it hurts so much. George is glaring up at him through a pile of tiny limbs, and while he's aiming for threatening he lands somewhere around disgruntled kitten.

Joe can't think of a moment when he's loved him more.

"I told you," Joe mumbles, holding out a hand to help him up. George states at it for a moment before taking it, evidently deciding Joe wasn't going to sabotage him further -- he's tempted, at first, but he'd also like to kiss George again real soon, so he doesn't. If only he knew how much Joe sacrificed. "You fell to your death."

George waves him off with a dismissive flick of his wrist. They spend the next few minutes staring at each other, and Joe's almost about to do something seriously embarrassing before George's fingers brush down his arm to intertwine their fingers.

"Okay?"

Joe's heart finally settles in his chest. "Okay."

 

\---

 

They walk into school the next morning holding hands.

Liebgott throws an apple at them for their trouble, and he's pretty sure he sees Nixon giving a twenty to Speirs. It's worth it, though, for the way George's grip feels in his, warm and tight and not going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> some fun facts, yo:
> 
> * i know the real joe toye dropped out of school during his junior year to help his dad but i truly, 100% can get behind academic!joe toye. like, in my heart toye is a fuckin' genius ok  
> * i really have no idea if the semantics in this fic are actually possible irl. i can count the amount of times i've been kissed on two hands and alas, i've never had the chance to try an upside down kiss.  
> * i just really really love this pairing guys, feel free to prompt me for them on my tumblr (@petebishcp) or just feel free to talk to me about them bc i need to hurl my feelings over these two cutie nerds at somebody


End file.
